


Sure on This Shining Night

by goodgriefdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodgriefdean/pseuds/goodgriefdean
Summary: They sit in silence for a time, the dancing mass at their backs, looking out at empty storefronts.After a while Dean nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his, and says, “Hey.”“Hey what?”“You never got nights like this in the city, did you?”Castiel thinks, wiggling his toes. “Not like this, no.”“Told ya so,” says Dean, childlike, and Castiel huffs a laugh. He wishes it could be so simple. But just as he thinks this, a timid voice in the back of his mind pipes up:why can't it be?(or, the one where Castiel moves to the Middle of Nowhere, USA and spends his summer eating ice cream, learning to ride a bike, and falling in love.)





	Sure on This Shining Night

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this baby since the beginning of summer and I'm so excited to finally share it with all of you! I got the overwhelming urge to write something like this while on a bike ride and started writing the second I got home. I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wio1hcuAAAk)
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me [here](https://goodgriefdean.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

_ The late year lies down the north  _

_ All is healed, all is health  _

_ High summer holds the earth, hearts all whole  _

_ Sure on this shining night. _

 

* * *

 

The first thing that Castiel Novak notices upon his arrival to the charming town of Cornridge, Wisconsin, is the corn. It’s everywhere. Fields stretch out as far as he can see to the east and west, dotted with farm houses and above-ground-pools and yellow slides. In the distance, horses graze on a shallow hill. Castiel tries to imagine how they feel, the sun beating down on their backs all day. He holds back a sigh and lets his head fall back against the head rese, rolling his eyes when he feels Gabriel’s gaze on him.

 

“Not in the city anymore, are we, little bro?” He asks. Castiel ignores the mocking edge in his tone.

 

“Clearly not.”

 

Ahead, a mass of pine trees swallows the two-lane highway. They enter the trees and then everything is different, the dusty yellows replaced by the lush, green shade of the Northwoods. The tips of the trees are painted gold by the late afternoon sun. Castiel squints into the woods, hoping that some sign of civilizations will reveal itself and put him at ease, but all he can make out in the sparse patches of sunlight are tree trunks, ferns, and, Castiel thinks, with growing apprehension, probably a whole lot of poison ivy.

 

After a mile or so, the trees finally part to reveal the small downtown. Castiel sits up and tries to gather all he can as Gabriel speeds through just a little too fast. The majority of the town seems to span about four blocks, all centered around a grassy square. It’s all old brick and wood paneling, the tallest building in sight the white church, dwarfed only by the trees and a distant water tower. And there, on the right side of the road, stands a rusty green sign. _Welcome to Cornridge. Pop 1134._

 

“Home sweet home,” Gabe says.

 

* * *

 

The house isn’t exactly what Castiel pictured. When his aunt said a _small town in Northern Wisconsin,_ he thought of a yellowy split-level on a scraggly lawn, maybe accompanied by a gnome or a faded plastic flamingo. But not this.

 

_This_ happens to be a tall and narrow farm house set back from the road, partly concealed by a large Elm. There’s a wide porch with a swing, and it doesn’t even look like it’s on the verge of falling apart. Bordering the house and taking up the rest of the block is a small woods. Castiel likes the way the trees bleed into the yard, how the whole place looks like a shady haven away from the sun bleached streets of the rest of town.

 

Castiel takes all of this in as he opens the car door and steps onto the cooling asphalt. Gabriel catches his eye over the roof of the car and asks, “Well?”

  

Castiel hoists his backpack over his shoulder, not bothering to close the passenger door behind him as he steps a little closer to the house. 

 

“You did all of this yourself?” He asks Gabe.

 

Gabe runs a hand over the porch railing. “Well, not all of it, but I built the porch and basically saved the place from certain destruction.” He gives the wood a pat. “I’m glad you like it, little bro. Thought you’d be too stuck up to really appreciate a simple man’s hard work.”

 

“I never said I liked it,” Castiel says cooly, already turning back to the car to grab his duffel and suitcase— his old bike is in the trunk, but he’ll get that out in the morning— then breezes past Gabe and into the house. He quickly finds the stairs and begins his way up, only realizing as he reaches the upper floor that he doesn’t know which room is his. He can see two empty bedrooms, one on either side of the hallway. Reluctantly, he heads back down the stairs.

 

Gabe is waiting at the bottom. “You choose, little bro,” he says with a hint of smugness. 

 

Castiel chooses the room that has a large window looking out at the forest, with a twin bed pushed into the far corner. He sets his bags down in the middle of the room and considers his 

surroundings: the floor is hardwood and dusty, like everything else, but the bed is neatly made and looks clean. There’s a desk and a dresser and a closet. It’s pretty sizable, too, Castiel thinks, at least half the size of his aunt’s entire apartment back in New York. He leaves his things bagged on the floor and goes to sit on the bed; watches as the early summer sun sets through the trees.

  

* * *

  

To Castiel’s surprise, Gabe makes dinner for them both. He doesn’t ask, just cooks and calls Castiel down when the hot dogs are ready. Castiel takes the plate gratefully and practically swallows the thing whole. He hadn’t even realized he’d been hungry, but he supposes a day like this can have that effect on a person.

 

They don’t talk much over dinner, just “thank you” and “no problem” where they are needed. But as Castiel places his dish in the dishwasher and begins to head out of the room, Gabe says, “Hey.”

 

Castiel turns back, a little surprised. He waits.

 

“You, uh—,” Gabe starts, looking unsure. He pauses, then opens his mouth again. “Look. I know this is… not what you’re used to. But it’s not all bad either. You’ll see.”

 

Castiel nods at him, but can’t find the words to reply, so he attempts a tight smile and then turns to go upstairs.

  

* * *

 

The next morning, Castiel keeps his eyes closed long after he wakes. He lies there in his bed, and he can almost pretend that he’s still out east, in the city, that when he opens his eyes the light that shines in will be dull and smoggy and he’ll look out the window and see skyscrapers and yellow taxis instead of green and nothing.

 

But eventually nature calls, and he’s hungry, too, so he opens his eyes, squinting in the bright-green tinted light that’s filtering through the window. He stops to look into the woods. The tree branches are bending lightly in the breeze, and the leaves flutter softly. He thinks he can make out a fairly wide trail, one that actually looks like it was made for human use. Making a mental note of it, he heads downstairs.

 

Gabe isn’t around. He’s probably already at the construction site, Castiel thinks, walking to the fridge and peering in. He grabs two eggs and fries them a little poorly, and then gets dressed to go outside. 

 

The woods are louder than Castiel expected. He was right— there’s a human path— and as soon as he steps onto the worn ground, sound surrounds him. It’s startling at first, but then he’s almost reassured. It reminds him a little of the city; the wind replaces the constant rush of traffic and instead of obnoxious honking, squirrels scold him from high branches. Still, he is cautious as he walks, as the bright colors and wildness of it all are unfamiliar.

 

After a while, a certain noise cuts through the din of the forest. It’s a loud tapping sound, and at first Castiel thinks— _a woodpecker?—_ because he’s pretty sure he’s read about those before, but as he moves further down the trail it gets louder and a little more irregular, and he decides that a bird probably isn’t the source. And sure enough, as he rounds a bend, he gets his answer: there is a small pond ahead with a wooden bridge arching over it to connect the trail on either side, and crouching in the center of the bridge, hammer in hand, is a person.

 

Said person continues to hammer as Castiel slowly approaches. He clears his throat, but the stranger doesn’t take notice, so Castiel tries again, louder this time, but to no avail. Finally, he reaches out and taps the stranger on his shoulder. He starts mid-pound and the hammer hits the wood with a loud bang.

 

“God _damn_!” He says, dropping the tool and checking the wood for any damage. “You tryna make me break a finger or something?” 

 

Castiel takes a step back, giving the guy some space. “I’m sorry,” is all he can think to say.

 

Obviously surprised by the unfamiliar voice, the guy stands to face Castiel and says, “Oh.” He looks about Castiel’s age, just a little taller. He wipes his arm across his sweaty forehead, and Castiel notices his eyes, so green that they seem to be reflecting the forest. 

 

“Hi,” he speaks again, “I’m Dean.” He holds out his hand and Castiel takes it. Dean’s grip is strong and warm. Castiel finds himself a little reluctant to let go.

 

“I’m Castiel,” he says.

 

“Castiel,” Dean repeats. “You new around here?”

 

Castiel nods. “I just got here yesterday.”

 

“Where from?”

 

“New York City.”

 

“Ah.” Dean smirks. “So you’re city kid, huh?” 

 

Castiel frowns. He doesn’t like the tone of Dean’s voice. “Well—,”

 

And it’s then that Dean seems to really take notice to him, because his eyes travel up and down his body and he says, “Wait. What are you _wearing_?”

 

In the city, Castiel wore the same thing most days: slacks, a polo shirt or dress shirt, depending on the weather, and his oxford shoes. So on this day, Cas put on just that. A salmon polo, black slacks, and his newly polished oxfords.

 

Self-conscious, Castiel looks down at himself, smoothing his shirt. “Um. My clothing?”

 

“Dude.” Dean huffs, though his smile does not look entirely unkind. “You need some sneakers.”

 

And suddenly Castiel’s had enough of this place, of the squirrels and the deer shit and this _kid_ who hammers obnoxiously and for some reason believes that it’s ok to walk around and humiliate innocent people’s clothing choices. Of course the first actual person his age that he’s met thinks he is a complete idiot.

 

So Castiel, only feeling a little childish as he does so, narrows his eyes and says to Dean, “Whatever,” before turning back the way he came.

 

“Um! See you around?” He hears Dean call after him, and Castiel rolls his eyes. _Hopefully not._

 

* * * 

 

Back in the city, Castiel was never without a job. Though his aunt, fairly wealthy and ready for retirement, didn’t need any extra help, Castiel enjoyed it. He liked the feeling of self sufficiency that work gave him. 

 

His plan in Cornridge is to start at the first building in downtown and work his way through town until he had found a job. His first stop is Cornridge Creamery, the local ice-cream shop. He walks in, is interviewed by a red-headed girl his age—Charlie— and is hired on the spot.

 

“We need people to work here, like, desperately,” she explains to him. “Right now, there’re only two others besides me. And they’re all lazy-asses. Actually,” —she checks her watch— “Someone else is supposed to be with me right now. This town’s lucky that we haven’t closed down yet!”

 

“What, is working alone at the ice cream shop all day not your ideal way to spend summer?” Castiel asks, smiling. 

 

Charlie shakes her head. “A girl’s gotta get her video-game time in somehow.” She beams at Castiel. “And now, thanks to you, humble gentleman, I’ll now have double the time to do just that!”

 

Castiel laughs. “It’s my pleasure.”

 

Charlie looks at him and pokes him in the chest. “Hey,” she says. “I like you. We need someone interesting around here to shake things up. Where are you from, anyway?”

 

“New York.”

 

“The city?”

 

“The city.”

 

“Wow,” she says, wistful. “This must be a big change for you, then, huh?” 

 

“It is,” Castiel agrees. Then he says, “So, when can I start?”

 

Charlie offers to start training him right then, and Castiel doesn’t have much better to do, so he agrees. It’s fairly simple; he’s worked a register before and Charlie is grateful for his experience. She just has to show him how to scoop ice cream (“Don’t break your wrist here, I’ve seen it happen.” “Really?” “No, but it damn hurts sometimes.”) and decode some items off the menu for him. (Cornridge Classic = A bucket of ice cream topped with whip cream. “I know,” Charlie says when she sees his face, “very American.”) She gives him a t shirt and a baseball cap and tells him that a name tag will be ready tomorrow.

 

“Thank you,” he says, when they finish.

 

“No,” Charlie replies, taking off her hat with a sigh of relief, “thank _you._ Now come eat lunch with me at the table.”

 

Castiel shrugs and follows her through the back of the narrow store, where a door leads them out to a dusty alley. Just outside the door sits a picnic table, looking surprisingly cleaner than its surroundings. Charlie sits on one side and Castiel takes the other. She pulls a sandwich out of a tin Starwars lunchbox that Castiel hadn’t noticed until then, and shoves half of it into her mouth at once. 

 

“Oh,” she says, mid chew, then pulls out a bag of chips and throws them at Castiel.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Charlie chews for a while longer. Castiel opens the chips. Charlie finishes and says, “So. Castiel.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“A bit of a mouthful, don’t you think?” She puts the other half of her sandwich in her mouth.

 

“Well, no, I don’t particularly think—,”

 

“Maybe I should just call you Cas, instead.” She mumbles around the sandwich.

 

“Okay.”

 

“That’s fine with you?”

 

“So, going by your logic, maybe I should call you ‘Cha.’”

 

Charlie narrows her eyes at him.

 

“That’s fine with you?” he asks.

 

“Whatever, _Cas,_ ” she says, and throws a piece of lettuce at him just as they are interrupted by a loud rumbling, and a shiny, black old car squeezes up into the alley.

 

“Oh my god,” Charlie says. “The absolute _nerve._ ” 

 

Castiel cranes his neck, curious, but he can’t see who’s behind the wheel. Then the car door is opening, and someone is stepping out. As he straightens, turning towards him and Charlie, his stomach drops. _Of course._ Castiel looks down at his oxford-clad, sneaker-less feet and sighs.

 

“Well, well, well,” Charlie is continuing. “So nice of you to _finally_ join us, Dean.”

 

Dean, looking truly sorry, holds his hands up in defense as he shuts the car door and walks towards the table. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Charlie raises an eyebrow, “I had to drive Sammy around this morning. He needed to get to and from a birthday party— wait, didn’t you get my texts?”

 

Charlie laughs and reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Of course, Deano. Just like to mess with your big head sometimes.”

 

It’s then that Dean’s eyes finally land on Castiel. “Hey! It’s you!”

 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says mildly. Dean looks good, if not a little rumpled, in a white tee shirt and jeans. Castiel’s eyes move to where the fabric stretches over his strong shoulders, trailing down his tan arms to where his car keys jingle restlessly in his hand.

 

Charlie squints and looks back and forth between them. “What did I miss?” She demands.

 

“Dean and I met yesterday in the woods near my house,” Castiel explains.

 

“Yeah,” Dean says, sitting down next to Charlie. “I think we may have gotten off on the uh.. wrong foot.”

 

Castiel shrugs, embarrassed that Dean is bringing it up. “It’s okay,” he says, and tries to give Dean a look, like _drop it, please._ It seems to work because Dean asks, “So, you work here now?”

 

“Yep!” Charlie cuts in. “Trained him myself.”

 

“Are you working the rest of today?” Dean asks Castiel.

 

“If you guys need me too, I could.”

 

“You can go home if you want,” Charlie says, right at the same time Dean says, “Stay.”

 

Castiel and Charlie both turned to Dean.

 

“You know,” Dean says, “get a little extra practice, a little more cash, it can’t hurt.”

 

Charlie shrugs, and Castiel nods. “Ok.”

 

Castiel spends the rest of the afternoon and into the evening at the shop. Usually he wouldn’t care to spend the whole day at work, but with Charlie and Dean there he finds himself having fun. He’s learning more about both of them, like how sometimes Dean says things that might come off the wrong way, but he rarely is mean on purpose, and how him and Charlie have been friends since they were in 6th grade, and how they have two more friends in their “group.”

 

Business is pretty slow, and Dean and Charlie know the names of every person who enters the store. Somehow, they end up on the subject of parents, and Dean is complaining a little about his father’s old-fashioned ways, though it’s clear to Castiel that he admires the man greatly. What he isn’t prepared for is when Charlie turns to him and asks, “So, Cas, what do your parents do? Why’d they move out here?”

 

And Castiel barely thinks before he says what he does, and he doesn’t exactly know why he says it, but he does. “My parents own a small business and they thought that they would do better in a small town than in New York.”

 

“What sort of business?” Dean asks, “And how did they end up choosing Cornridge?”

 

Castiel’s mind races. “Um, a bookstore,” he blurts, because that sounds fairly normal, “and my Dad grew up a few towns… north of here.”

 

“Well,” Charlie says, flashing Castiel a winning smile, “we’re glad you’re here to make our lives interesting, aren’t we Dean?”

 

“Sure are,” Dean agrees, and laughs.

 

There’s a pit in Castiel’s stomach. These are the first near-friends he’s made, and he’s already fabricated a significant lie. But they are both smiling at him, their eyes kind, and he does his best to push the feeling down and away. 

 

They work until seven, and then Charlie finally lets out a heaving sigh and says, “That’s it. Enough for me. Business is slow. Let’s close her up, boys.” And that’s what they do.

 

They leave their hats and aprons hanging on pegs near the back and Charlie grabs the keys as Castiel and Dean shut off all the lights.

 

The muggy June air hits them full force as they step through the door, and Castiel can immediately feel sweat collecting on his brow. It’s strange, he thinks, to look up and down the street and see no one in sight. Even the small park in the center of town is empty, save for the squirrels. Castiel can’t tell exactly how he feels about it.

 

Charlie is a few feet away, unlocking her bike from a lamp post and heading in the direction opposite of Cas’s house. 

 

“See you guys!” She calls, waving a hand high as she coasts down the middle of the street, away and out of sight.

 

Castiel starts to wave goodbye to Dean and begin the trek back to his house, but Dean stops him in his tracks.

 

“You want a ride?” He asks, “I live right around the block from you anyway.”

 

“Oh.” Castiel is a little surprised by the offer. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

 

“’S no problem.” Dean turns back to the alley where he is parked, and Castiel trails behind him, feeling a little uncomfortable. Dean has grown on him, sure. But he still doesn’t like the way Dean regards him like some sort of outsider.

 

The passenger side door opens with a creak, and Castiel settles down into the old leather. The car has a nice smell, dusty and warm.

 

“I like your car,” Castiel says as Dean backs out of the tight space.

 

Dean laughs. “Yeah. So do I. Unfortunately, it’s not mine. My dad barely ever lets me drive it, today was a special circumstance ‘cause of my brother. I’m usually on my bike.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Do you like biking?”

 

“I have a broken bicycle. I haven’t ridden one since I was little.”

 

“Huh,” Dean says.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s just— your life is so different than mine, I guess.”

 

“How so?” Castiel asks, though he knows he could list hundreds of reasons right then and there.

 

“Even just the biking thing. My bike is like, my lifeline. I couldn’t imagine living here without one.”

 

“Do you like it here?” Castiel surprises himself at the question.

 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I really do.” He pauses, then asks, “What about you? How do you feel about it so far?”

 

“I’m not so sure about it,” Castiel answers honestly. “I miss the city.”

 

Dean snorts at that. “Dude. This place is awesome. City life sucks.”

 

Castiel rolls his eyes and looks out the window, watches as they pass swingsets and gardens and tiny metal playgrounds. “You’re wrong,” he says.

 

“Ok, ok,” Dean says, “It probably doesn’t suck. But this place is just as good, probably better. I mean, think about it: in the city you can’t hang out in a yard all day, or go on adventures with your friends—,”

 

“Wrong.”

 

“I’m talking about _fun_ adventures. Like riding your bike in any direction and seeing where you end up, or swimming in the river, or, like, _anything._ ”

 

Castiel contemplates this for a moment, and then Dean speaks up again.

 

“I’ll prove it to you,” He says, and they are pulling into Castiel’s driveway.

 

“Prove what?”

 

“That this place is awesome. I’ll show you.”

 

Castiel looks at Dean and narrows his eyes, mulling it over. “Fine,” he says.

 

The smile Dean gives him is so bright that Castiel can’t help but return it. “It’s a deal, then.” Dean says. “But first, we’re gonna have to get you some new shoes.”

 

* * *

 

The next two weeks fly by in a flurry of new people and places. Charlie invites him to a movie at her house a few days after his first day at work, and when he arrives Dean is already stretched across the couch, bowl of popcorn in hand, his legs resting on the lap of a slender blonde girl that Castiel hasn’t met. 

 

“Jo,” she says, and sticks out her hand for Castiel to shake. Her grip is strong, and he fights not to wince at the contact. Dean must catch Castiel’s expression, because he says to her, “Careful there, tiger. Don’t scare off the new guy.” She pinches his toe in response, and he scowls at her.

 

 

A buff looking guy with dusty gray hair pokes his head out of what seems to be the kitchen. “New guy?” He asks, in a southern drawl.

 

“Yeah, Benny,” Dean says, “You’ve been replaced.”

 

“Replaced?” Castiel asks.

 

“Benny moved here from down south in 8th grade, but this town’s so small he’s still used to being called ‘new.’”

 

Castiel nods in understanding.

 

There’s a great rumbling sound, and Charlie comes flying down the stairs. “Cas!” She exclaims. “Want popcorn?” She asks, already running into the kitchen to grab a bowl, thrusting it into his hands.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Benny comes in from the kitchen with iced tea for everyone, and they start the movie. To absolutely no one’s surprise, it’s an original Starwars movie. Castiel, however, has never seen one, and finds himself invested in the plot, holding his breath in suspense and feeling relieved when a character makes his way out of a sticky situation.

 

The movie ends and the group stays put. They fall into random, tired conversation, and Castiel learns a little more about their lives during the school year.

 

Castiel has settled into a plush chair that borders the couch that Dean’s on. His hair tickles Castiel’s forearm, and Castiel looks over at Jo, at her easy posture and the way Dean is absentmindedly wiggling his toes where his feet rest in her lap and he wonders if they’re dating. He voices his question, and Jo cackles.

 

“In his _dreams_!” She says, and Dean kicks her lightly. 

 

“ _Hey_ ,” he protests. “I’m a catch.”

 

“Sure, Dean,” she says, giving him a smug smile. 

 

“What about you, Cas?” Charlie asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Got anyone special back in the city? Girlfriends? Boyfriends?”

 

Castiel feels Dean tilt his head back to look at him, his green eyes dark in the dim room.

 

“No,” he says, “not really.”

 

“Well,” Charlie says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I guess I’m the only one with a raging love life up in here.”

 

“Oh _please._ ” Dean scoffs, as Jo and Benny laugh. “You can barely even talk to Claire.”

 

“I beg to differ,” Charlie says. “She winked at me in the hall on the last day of school. It’s practically a done deal.”

 

“She’s right, it was intense,” Benny chimes in. “I practically had to cover my eyes.”

 

Castiel walks home that night feeling the best he had since he arrived in Cornridge. He finally had people his own age to hang out with— people who didn’t treat him like a total alien, the way he feared they might. 

 

A few days after that, Dean and Charlie insist that they take Castiel shopping. Dean gets the car again and they drove up the highway to a Walmart. Dean’s little brother Sam tags along, as well. He mostly has his nose in his book the whole time, but he beams and agrees with almost everything Dean says and Castiel can tell they have a special relationship.

 

“T-shirts,” Dean emphasizes when they get inside the store. “You need some t-shirts.” It’s a rainy day, and Dean’s wearing a leather jacket that makes his shoulders look even broader. Castiel finds his eyes lingering there often. 

 

“God, and some shorts,” Charlie says. “You must sweat to death in all those pants you wear.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes and pokes Dean. “I’m gonna go look at the books,” he says, and scurries off.

 

“Be careful!” Dean calls after him, and shakes his head. “That kid and his books.”

 

They work their way through the isles, both Charlie and Dean picking things off the racks and tossing them into the cart, neither one trusting Castiel to pick out anything of his own. When they get to the shoe section, they walk past a few cowboy boots, and Charlie stops dead in her tracks, gripping Dean’s arm.

 

She looks at him, wide-eyed, and says, “The Jamboree.”

 

“Oh!” Dean spins to face Castiel. “Do you have something to wear to the Jamboree?”

 

Castiel stares at him blankly. “The Jamboree?”

 

“The June Jamboree, it’s this country-themed dance that the town puts on in the square every year.”

 

Castiel’s skepticism must show on his face, because Charlie cuts in. “It sounds lame, I know, but it’s kind of like the biggest thing that happens all year, so the town puts in a ton of effort and everyone goes. It’s actually fun.”

 

“Ok,” Castiel shrugs. “Could I go with you guys?” He asks hesitantly, unsure if he’s intruding on some group tradition of theirs.

 

“Yeah, of course you’re coming with us,” Dean says, his smile warm when Castiel meets his eyes. He’s glad that Dean is being so welcoming to him since that first day. He must have sensed Castiel’s unease.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“But there is kind of a catch,” Charlie says. “You have to, um, dress the part.”

 

“Yep!” Dean grins, patting Castiel’s shoulder as he brushes past. “The whole shebang: cowboy boots and all.”

 

“I see.”

 

Castiel enters the empty dressing rooms with almost more than he can carry. He doesn’t bother trying on any of the t shirts, but he won’t take a chance on the shorts. Dean and Charlie wait outside the door, forcing him to model each thing for them. 

 

He saves the most daunting thing for last: the Jamboree outfit they selected. It consists of a black button down with red western detailing, dark wash Levis and a belt to go with them, and a mildly ridiculous pair of brown cowboy boots.

 

He is almost pleasantly surprised, though, when he puts everything on. It all fits him on just the right side of too snug. The shirt hugs him in all the right places, and the jeans, fitting a little tighter than he expected, somehow makes his legs look longer. And paired with the entire outfit, the boots don’t look half as tacky as Castiel thought they might. He still feels a little strange, though, so it os with hesitance that he unlocks the door and steps out.

 

Charlie is upon him in an instant, rolling his sleeves to his elbows and unbuttoning his shirt a little. He just stands there, feeling useless and a bit silly. She backs up to stand beside Dean, and she lets out a puff of air.

 

“Holy Brokeback Mountain,” she breathes. Castiel feels himself flush. He looks at Dean, and doesn’t miss the way his eyes travel down Castiel’s body, then snap back up to meet his own.

 

“You, uh.” He begins, scratching the back of his neck. “You look— it suits you.”

 

Charlie beams at him. “You look smokin’, cowboy!”

 

* * * 

 

Between working the Creamery and hanging out with his new friends, Castiel rarely finds himself at the house. It’s not that he is purposefully avoiding Gabe, but he’s been enjoying himself lately and there is always an edge of awkwardness to any interaction with his brother.

 

Castiel can’t really remember a time when it hadn’t been that way. The memories he has of life with his parents are so blurry and distant that he has half a mind to believe he fabricated them himself. All he knows is that Gabe is always in the corner of those memories, whether behind a cracked bedroom door or sitting at the breakfast table. When his parents left, though, when he was sent to live with his aunt but Gabe got to start a life of his own just because he had the privilege of being born some ten years before Castiel, that’s when the bitterness set in.

 

He can’t deny the fact that Gabriel has created a good life for himself out here. He’s moved himself up through the ranks working on the subdivision, and in his free time he even turned their house— once barely a shack, according to Gabe— into something livable. Castiel appreciates that. But the slight hostility he harbors towards is brother isn’t one sided. Gabe has always spoken to him as though Castiel is an entitled asshole. Castiel doesn’t know how to show him that he didn’t just had everything handed to him. That he, too, lost a part of himself when their parents left. They robbed him of his childhood.

 

 

The end of June arrives slowly but surely, and with it comes the town’s intense preparation for the Jamboree. It seems to be the only thing people can talk about it, and Castiel isn’t sure how it could possibly live up to the hype. But even Dean gets a sparkle in his eye when it comes up, and Castiel does his best to set aside his reservations.

 

Benny owns a van and he offers to drive the five of them to the event. Castiel takes his time getting ready in his room. He woke up that morning feeling oddly jittery, but he found that it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, and probably justified given that this was his first big social event since moving into town.

 

It’s a hot night, and the air floats in through Castiel’s open window in warm waves. He stands in front of his full length mirror, straightening his shirt one more time. He rolls up the sleeves like Charlie did, but feels inclined to keep the buttons done up. He is adjusting his belt when he hears the honk from outside, and he shoves his phone and wallet into his pocket before flying down the stairs. He nearly slams into Gabriel in the process, who takes in his outfit with wide eyes.

 

“Wow, little bro,” he says. “Don’t get too frisky!”

 

Castiel is out the door before he has a chance to reply, and then he is in Benny’s van and they are zooming off. It’s all a blur, somehow, the night air making him a little dizzy. Something cold is thrust into his hand and his vision clears. It’s a beer, and Jo is handing it to him. She gives him a sly wink. 

 

“Drink up, bucko,” she says, and takes a long swig of her own. Dean is pressed to her other side, and he catches Cas’s eye.

 

“Don’t do anything you don’t wanna,” he says, “But it’s kind of our tradition since like, freshman year. Gotta get loose.”

 

And Castiel doesn’t know what makes him do it, whether it’s the summer night rushing in through the open windows or the heat or the fact that Dean’s eyes look a little too green in the darkness, but he tips the bottle to his lips and chugs, and Benny whoops and tosses another back without taking his eyes off the road, and before Castiel knows it they are pulling up to town and he’s downed three beers.

 

They have to wait in the van for a moment while Benny gets his fill after they’re parked, and then they open the doors and tumble onto the grass. For a moment,Castiel sways in place, dazed by the loud music and dancing light and the alcohol, and then Dean’s hand is warm on his elbow and the five of them are making their way through the crowd.

 

Castiel can get a good look at his friends, now, and he sees Jo’s floaty white dress and cowgirl boots and Charlie’s full on rodeo garb. Of course Benny looks a little like he always does, except this time he’s got a hat on. And Dean. Dean is wearing a white button down that hugs his body and is tucked into a tight pair of black jeans. And somehow, he has managed to make a bolo tie not look completely ridiculous. His skin looks impossibly tan against the crisp white of his shirt, and— _how exactly has Castiel never noticed those freckles?_

 

Suddenly Charlie is grabbing his sleeve and leading him from the crowd, yelling something about snacks. As he follows her, he looks around. It really does look beautiful, golden twinkle lights strung from tree to tree and the occasional strand hanging down, and strings of paper lanterns crisscross over the crowd. They reach a table with refreshments, and Charlie grabs a brownie, then turns to Castiel.

 

“How are you?” She asks, a note of seriousness in her tone.

 

“‘M fine,” Castiel answers. She narrows her eyes at him. 

 

“You gonna puke or anything?”

 

“Three beers won’t make me puke,” he says, speaking slowly so that his syllables are clear.

 

“Have you drank before?”

 

“Well— no.”

 

“Ok, there you go. Not everyone can hold their alcohol the first time.”

 

Castiel rolls his eyes. He doesn’t feel to unstable, just warm and light— definitely tipsy. But, he thinks loudly, nothing he can’t handle. “I’m good.”

 

He drinks a cup of water and then they head back into the crowd, where their friends are dancing in a circle. Just as he joins them, he hears someone calling his name in a loud, british accent.

 

“Castiel!” He turns, and is greeted by s scruffy face and blond hair— Gabriel’s friend Balthazar. He stumbles towards their group, his pupils dilated and an easy grin on his face. Castiel’s friends grow quiet, curious. 

 

“This is Balthazar.” He gestures towards the man. “He’s my brother’s friend.” Jo and Charlie wave half-heartedly. Benny is turning away with a girl he seems to have just met, and Dean nods at Balthazar, curt.

 

“Well, well, well,” The man turns to Castiel again. “You clean up nice, don’t you, city boy.” He leans in, his breath uncomfortable hot on Cas’s ear. “Care for a dance?”

 

There are few things that Castiel would care to do less than dance with Balthazar, but he doesn’t want to be rude. He opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off.

 

“Actually,he’s busy. Sorry, bud. Maybe another time.” It’s Dean, and he pulls Castiel closer into their circle by his arm.

 

Balthazar looks a little put off, but turns away from them, striking conversation with someone near.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly.

 

“Don’t thank me,” Dean says, and his features are dark. “You shouldn’t have to dance with a creep like him.” He says the last part a little louder, his face turned slightly to where Balthazar is dancing on their right, and just as Balthazar looks their way, Dean is stepping up into Castiel’s space, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a smile as he unbuttons the top of Castiel’s shirt. He mutters _there we go,_ and as his thumb brushes Castiel’s collarbone the world goes a little quiet and a little blurry, thrumming around him in a haze of sound and light, save for the boy standing right in front of him. Dean’s eyes flick to his, briefly, and then the moment is over as he steps back and shoots another look to the right.

 

Castiel stands there, frozen, but Dean looks away from him, focusing back on something that Charlie is saying. 

 

“I’m gonna get some air,” Castiel says, to no one in particular, and then he leaves the group and heads to sit on the curb at the edge of the park. He closes his eyes and waits for the dizzy feeling to subside. Whether it was brought on by the dancing or the alcohol or by something else, he doesn’t care to investigate. He listens to the lush thrum of acoustic guitar pouring from the speakers situated on the edge of the stage and around the square. He tries to focus on it, tries to allow the deep bass to ground him, and when he opens his eyes a moment later he feels excruciatingly sober.

 

The air carries a thick scent of grass and dirt, and he watches as fireflies slowly drift by, an echo of the party going on behind him. After a while he hears two sets of footsteps approaching him, and Dean and Charlie take a seat on either side of him. Charlie pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them, and Dean leans back on his palms, crossing his ankles out in front of him. Charlie offers him a cookie, and he takes it gratefully.

 

“So,” Dean starts, “the Jamboree living up to all your hopes and dreams?”

 

Castiel hums, tilting his head back to catch a glimpse of the twinkling lights. “It is quite beautiful. I was surprised.”

 

“Yeah,” Charlie says, “In a town like this, people can afford to spend three days straight standing on ladders and getting bark in their eyes.”

 

Castiel nods, then leans forward to pull of his boots and socks. He presses his bare feet into the pavement in front of them, relieved to feel solid ground against his skin. 

 

“Good idea,” Charlie says, pulling off her own. “These things are killing me.”

 

They sit in silence for a time, the dancing mass at their backs, looking out at empty storefronts.

 

After a while Dean nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his, and says, “Hey.”

 

“Hey what?”

 

“You never got nights like this in the city, did you?”

 

Castiel thinks, wiggling his toes. “Not like this, no.”

 

 

“Told ya so,” says Dean, childlike, and Castiel huffs a laugh. He wishes it could be so simple. But just as he thinks this, a timid voice in the back of his mind pipes up: _why can’t it be?_

 

 

When Castiel returns home that night, he finds a note on the kitchen counter. It reads:

  

_Spending most of night in office._

_Hope you had fun at dance._

_-G_

 

He reads it a few times over, the words sounding strange in his mind, then heads up to his room. He falls asleep, his mind twirling and rocking as if he was still on the grass, and dreams of hot pavement and green eyes.

 

* * *

  

The first week of July drags by in a slow haze of unbearable heat. Temperatures climb higher and higher— peaking at 102 degrees one Wednesday afternoon. Charlie and Castiel are working the shift together, both slumped on stools behind the counter, trying to get as close to the ice cream coolers as they possibly can. The actual AC in the place has been broken for years, and neither of them can decide if they should leave the door open or closed. Closed, they eventually decide, is best, as hopefully all the cooling equipment for the ice cream will help them.

 

“So,” Castiel says, when they’ve been sitting for a while in silence, “how is Claire doing?”

 

Charlie’s face breaks into a sly grin. “I take it you saw us the other night?”

 

A few nights ago, after a particularly rowdy group of kids had kept them open late, Castiel caught a glimpse of a girl waiting in the alley. She looked familiar, and Castiel realized he saw her at the Jamboree, Charlie in tow, as the night was winding down.

 

“Yes.”

 

“She’s totally and completely awesome.” Charlie sighs dreamily. “She’s like, super badass. I can’t believe she’d go for a geek like me.”

 

Castiel frowns at her. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re pretty badass, as well. I saw you slaying those Shadow Orcs on that Moondoor video game the other day.”

 

Charlie flips her hair jokingly. “You’re right. That was pretty cool.”

 

“I bet Claire thinks the same.”

 

Dean comes in a little later. He’s not working but drops off a cold soda for each of them and stays for a while. Castiel nearly drops his bottle as Dean hands it to him, and Charlie gives him an odd look. 

 

Castiel knows that he has acted strangely around Dean since the Jamboree, but it’s something he can’t control. He’s been jumpy and quiet, and he knows that Dean has noticed, has seen him share confused looks with Charlie and Jo.

 

Dean stays for about half an hour, pulling up a third stool and killing time with them. When he leaves, Castiel can’t help but relax a little. He and Charlie carry on, serving customers frothy root beer floats and lemonade popsicles because 103 degrees is a little too hot for chocolate ice cream.

 

Around 5 pm there’s a lull, and Charlie asks him, blunt, “So what are you into?”

 

He blinks at her for a moment, taken aback. He has an idea what she’s getting at, but wants her to spell it out for him. “What am I into?”

 

Charlie nods. “Ya know. Girls, guys. Both. Neither. Something else. I can’t figure you out.”

 

Castiel looks at her for a minute, and he feels his heart start to speed up, because he’s never talked to anyone about this before. But then he feels a little silly, because this is Charlie, Charlie who loves everyone and who’ll tell anyone who she’s crushing on and who sometimes wears rainbow socks. 

 

“Guys,” he says, and all the pressure that he didn’t even feel in his chest releases.

 

Charlie pumps her fist in the air. “Yes! I knew it. Thank _god._ ” And then she opens her mouth, as if there’s something else she wants to say, but then closes it, clearly thinking better of it. Instead, she says, “Thank you for telling me.”

 

And Castiel smiles at her. “Thank you for allowing me to. Why do you ask?”

 

He sees something glint in her eyes— something mischievous and knowing. 

 

 

“Oh, no reason,” she says, and turns back to cleaning the counter. Castiel narrows his eyes at her back. He knows her well enough now; he can tell when she is up to something, but the moment has ended. 

 

* * * 

  

The heat wave passes in a few days, much to everyone’s relief. Castiel sits in his room one Friday night, planning on spending the night in reading, when he hears Gabe call up.

 

“Little bro! Your friends are at the door.”

 

Castiel pulls on his sneakers and runs down the stairs to the door, and everyone is right there. Dean, Charlie, Jo, Benny, even Sam and his “friend” Jess. And they’re all on bicycles.

 

“There’s a big carnival a few towns over,” Jo explained. “Come on!”

 

The group starts to turn away on their bikes, but Castiel calls out to them, “Wait! I don’t have a bike!”

 

Jo gives him a wink and pats the rack over her back tire. “Hop on, baby!”

 

And just like that, they’re off, down a street Castiel has never seen before, then across a little field and onto an actual paved bike trail. The sun has just started to set, the sky hasn’t even turned pink yet, and they race north. 

 

The trail is bordered on either side by tall prairie grass, and Castiel watches it bend in the breeze they create as he grips tightly to Jo’s waist. Her hair whips against his face, and he looks around, at everyone laughing and shouting and speeding along, and feels the dusk air on his skin, and he can’t hide his smile.

 

After a few miles they’re veering off the trail and onto the streets of a larger town. They round a corner and suddenly the carnival is in front of them, all multicolored lights and big machines. They lock their bikes to trees across the street and pay the entrance fee. Castiel falls into step with Charlie, who is looking up at the rides in awe.

 

“I came here once when I was a kid,” she says, “but somehow it looks bigger than I remembered.”

 

Sam and Jess run off, hand in hand, as soon as they’re through the gates. Castiel catches Dean’s eye, and Dean shakes his head at them fondly.

 

The carnival is bright and loud, but it isn’t too crowded, and they all sit down at a picnic table to eat hot dogs and funnel cakes. Then they stumble through the funhouse, Dean grumbling at Castiel’s back the entire time (“I hate funhouses”), and head over to the ring toss, where Benny wins a giant stuffed Tweetybird and hands it to the nearest kid, who beams at him with bambi eyes.

 

Castiel loves the place, loves how all he can smell is cotton candy and sweet corn and mud. And he knows that he has a stupid grin on his face, but it’s worth it for the confused, happy looks that Dean is giving him.

 

The five of them have been wandering for a while when Charlie looks up and says, “Let’s ride the ferris wheel.”

 

Next to Castiel, Dean stops in his tracks. “No way,” he says, firmly. “I’m not going all the way up on that rickety piece of crap.”

 

And suddenly, looking up at the ride, the two-person seats and the colorful lights, going on that ferris wheel is all Castiel wants to do. He puts on his best puppy face, one that’s gotten Dean many times before, and turns to him.

 

“Please Dean?” He asks. “It’ll be fun.”

 

Dean looks at him for a moment, then his face breaks into a scowl. “Fine. I’ll ride with you. But you owe me, buddy. Big time.”

 

Castiel beams at him, victorious. “Thank you.”

 

“Damn, Cas,” Charlie says. “I’m impressed. Dean doesn’t face his girlish fear of heights for many a person.” She smirks as Dean directs his glare towards her. “What? It’s true!”

 

The wait is short and before they know it, Charlie and Jo are boarding together (Benny wanted to sit this one out) and Castiel and Dean are next. Dean hesitates in front of Castiel, and he cups Dean’s elbow to guide him in.

 

The benches are surprisingly long, and they both have a lot of room once they sit down. Castiel pulls the bar down over their laps and spares a look at Dean. He is staring straight ahead, clenching the bar with white knuckles. Castiel feels a pang of guilt.

 

“Dean, if you don’t—,”

 

“No.” Dean cuts in. “Charlie’s right, I gotta face my fears. Might as well not do it alone, right?” He gives Castiel a smile, but it looks pained.

 

“I guess so.”

 

And with that, the ride creaks and groans, and their bench begins the slow ascent. They sit in silence as the ground gets further and further away, and then they are halfway up and Castiel can see the entire carnival. It looks surreal from their height, all yellows and pinks, and he spots Benny at a picnic table and waves. And then they are cresting the wheel, and Castiel can see so far and wide that he barely notices how close Dean has gotten to him. When Castiel turns to him, his eyes are wide and fixed far on the horizon. And then, Dean lets out a small giggle. It’s an odd sound, tight with Dean’s obvious discomfort, but it’s so strange that Castiel can’t help but laugh. And Dean’s giggle grows a little louder, a little more hysteric, and Castiel can’t contain himself, and they stay like that, practically doubled over, their shoulder shaking the entire time.

 

The ride ends all too soon and they stumble off together, still laughing, and when they hit the grass again, Dean says, “That was… something else,” still chuckling between words. Castiel turns to him, at the way the pink lights of the wheel are playing across his face. His freckles look deeper and his eyes are so warm, and that’s when Castiel thinks, _oh._

 

_I am a complete idiot._

 

* * * 

 

 

Castiel corners Charlie behind the port-a-potties later that night. 

 

“I need to tell you something,” he says, eyes darting and voice low. The last thing he wants is for someone to overhear.

 

Charlie looks concerned for a moment. “Are you ok?”

 

Castiel nods. His stomach twists. “Yes. I think.”

 

Charlie looks at him expectantly.

 

“It’s… about Dean,” Castiel says, finally.

 

“I see,” Charlie says, smirking a little and crossing her arms.

 

“I, um,” he says, the next words not coming to him. Charlie raises her eyebrows encouragingly, but he doesn’t miss the smugness in her eyes.

 

“Go on,” she says.

 

“I. Um. Like him?” He meets Charlie’s eyes with a defeated sigh. “Like-like. Him.”

 

Charlie huffs a laugh. “Yeah, kid.” She flicks his chest. “I could tell.”

 

Castiel feels his eyes widen in panic. “Really? Is it that obvious? Do you think he knows?”

 

“Relax, Cas. No, I don’t think he knows. But it isn’t exactly uncommon for any human being to fall a little head over heels for him. I figured you might.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“How do you… feel about it?” 

 

“I only just realized tonight. So… overwhelmed.”

 

“ _Seriously?_ ” Charlie gapes at him. “How did I know before _you_?”

 

Castiel looks down, a little embarrassed. “I’m not sure. I’ve never really liked someone before, I guess. Not with any sort of real emotion, anyway.”

 

“Oh,” Charlie breathes. “Dean’s your first real crush?”

 

“Yeah,” Cas says, unable to keep from sounding a little miserable. “Of course I would fall for the straightest boy I’ve ever met.”

 

Charlie snorts at this. “Are you serious?”

 

Castiel looks up at her. “Yes?”

 

“Listen here, kiddo. Dean Winchester is many things. Straight is not one of them.”

 

Castiel’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He stares at her.

 

“Trust me. He totally had a thing with this kid Aaron last year before he graduated. Like half the school knew. But don’t worry. It was more of a janitor’s-closet-fling type of thing.”

 

“Oh.” Is all Castiel can manage, but a little hope is bubbling in his chest.

 

“Yeah. And he also told me something about it Freshman year, how he liked girls and guys. But he hasn’t mentioned it since. I don’t think he really likes talking about things like that. Plus, his dad doesn’t really… approve.”

 

“Oh,” Castiel repeats.

 

 

“Honestly, Cas,” Charlie says, looking him in the eye earnestly, “You should go for it. It’s the summer before senior year, what do you have to lose?”

 

_Everything,_ Castiel wants to reply, but Charlie has just given him a world of information, and his mind is spinning too fast to say anything back.

 

They get back with the group and Castiel doesn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes seek him out. The bike ride home happens in a quiet haze; the only sounds are crickets and the mechanical whir of the bicycles. 

 

Castiel enters the house with a small smile on his face, and Gabe returns it, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he passes. 

 

“Night, little brother.”

  

* * *

 

The next day, Castiel works a shift with Dean and he’s buzzing. The space between them feels charged. And maybe Cast is making this up, but he feels like Dean is buzzing a little too, like his cheeks are pinker and his words a little more jumbled and his hands a little more frantic.

 

They work in comfortable silence, mostly. It’s a busy day; there’s been a constant stream of people at the counter since 10 am. 

 

“What are your parents like?” Dean asks, a little out of the blue, during a quieter moment. He has settled against the counter towards the back, across from where Castiel is taking inventory, positioned so that he can see the whole store.

 

Castiel pretends not to hear the question as he writes, his mind beginning to panic. He feels guilty for lying to his friends, but he has dug himself in too deep a hole to back out now. Recalling the hazy childhood memories, he says,

 

“Distant, I suppose. They stay out of our lives. But they aren’t unkind.” He isn’t sure how much of the last part is true, but he supposes that it sounds a little more plausible that way.

 

“Oh,” Dean says, mulling this over.

 

“What is your father like?” Castiel asks, because as much time that he’s spent with Dean, he’s never met John, and Dean rarely mentions him.

 

 

“He’s um. I don’t know. He loves me and Sam, I guess, even if he doesn’t always do the right thing.” Dean says, nodding to himself. His eyes stay fixed on the floor.

 

“You say he loves you, though. That’s what’s important,” Castiel says, though it is merely a guess.

 

“Yeah,” Dean says, nodding, his eyebrows drawn together. “I guess you’re right.”

 

 

That afternoon, Castiel nearly works up the courage to say something to Dean. Charlie’s words echo in his head. _What do you have to lose?_ As hard as he tries, the words don’t come out of his mouth. He admits defeat to himself, for the time being. But there’s a moment where Dean has to squeeze past him and his hand brushes across Castiel’s back, and Castiel has to lean on the counter for support and squeeze his eyes shut, and he thinks, _this can’t go on much longer._

 

 

 

The group makes plans later that night for a movie at Charlie’s house. Dean and Castiel work until closing, and they decide to walk over to Charlie’s together.

 

“You taken the back way yet?” Dean asks once they’ve locked up and begun to walk.

 

“The what way?” Castiel asks, and Dean shakes his head, turning down an unfamiliar street. 

 

“I’ll show you.”

 

They cut a few corners and make some strange turns and round a big house, and suddenly they are on a narrow sidewalk bordered on one side by fenced in backyards and on the other by a shallow, grassy drop off leading down to train tracks that parallel the sidewalk.

 

“I didn’t know a train passed here,” Castiel says.

 

“Those tracks are pretty long abandoned.”

 

Castiel looks closer now, and he can see the tall grasses growing up and around the metal, nature taking control once again. A flash of color catches his eye. It’s a small group of purple wildflowers, sprouting right between the track. Feeling drawn to it, Castiel half walked, half slid down the grassy slope to the tracks.

 

Dean says, “Whoa!” and laughs, and Castiel can hear him following behind. He picks a flower as Dean comes up next to him.

 

“Oh,” Dean says, “A lionsheart. That was my mom’s favorite.”

 

Without thinking, Castiel holds the flower out to Dean.

 

“You can have it,” He says, feeling the tips of his ears heat slightly.

 

And Dean gives him a little smile. His face says _weirdo_ and Castiel isn’t quite sure if it’s the light or the sun, but he thinks he sees a trace of pink in Dean’s cheeks.

 

 

The movie has already started when they get to Charlie’s. Castiel and Dean squeeze together on the only available part of the couch. They all concentrate on the movie and watch in silence, and by the end Benny is already conked out and Jo and Charlie head upstairs to sleep in real beds. Castiel doesn’t miss the wink that Charlie gives him as they pass, though he is grateful Dean is not paying attention.

 

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s two in the morning. Maybe it’s the hot July air coming in from the window, or the quiet of the house, or the maybe-blush from earlier, but Castiel feels courage building slowly in him. Dean is practically pressed into his side, scrolling through his phone. 

 

Castiel says, “Dean,” and Dean hums, not paying attention, so he tries again, “Dean,” and Dean puts down his phone. Castiel turns to look at him. Dean’s eyes flick down to his lips, and Castiel can’t help his tongue flitting out to wet his own.

 

“You, uh…” Dean says absently, his gaze still on Castiel’s mouth, and then he falls silent.

 

Castiel leans in, slowly, and says, “Can I…?”. He reaches for Dean. His hand finds the back of his neck, and pulls him in, and then they are kissing.

 

For one almost endless moment, Dean kisses back,his hand warm on Castiel’s waist, but then Dean is pushing Castiel away, so gently.

 

“I can’t do this,” Dean says.

 

Castiel doesn’t register it. He leans in again, chasing the sensation, but Dean says it louder, moving off the couch now.

 

“No. Cas.”

 

Hearing his name. That’s what snaps Castiel out of it. He looks up at Dean, standing over the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. His face unreadable.

 

Castiel feels humiliation burn deep in his gut, and his eyes fill with tears. He gets up. Pushes past Dean. He runs, blind, out into the street, his socked feet quiet on the pavement. But Dean is running out behind him, and is grabbing his wrist, and Castiel hates the way it sears his skin. He turns around anyway.

 

“What,” he says, and wipes a tear from his face, his jaw set.

 

Dean sighs, his green eyes pained, and Castiel’s chest aches. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Castiel feels hot anger rising in him. “Why did you kiss me _back._ ” He grates out, barely a question.

 

And somehow Dean’s eyes seem to grow sadder, and he says, “God, Cas. You don’t get it. You don’t know how much I wanted to kiss you. I wanted it so _fucking_ bad.”

 

Something—hope, maybe?— swoops in Castiel’s chest, and he steps closer to Dean. He leans in, but Dean steps back again. 

 

“What the _hell_?” Castiel shouts.

 

“You don’t understand,” Dean says to him, practically pleading. “My Dad will kill me. He— I can’t. I’m sorry.”

 

Castiel wants to punch something. “This isn’t fair.”

 

And now it’s Dean’s turn to be angry. “Well, shoot. I’m sorry it isn’t fucking _fair,_ Cas. I’m sorry we can’t all live in a perfect house with our perfect little mom and dad like _you._ ” 

 

Castiel moves closer to Dean again, but this time with a completely different intent. “My parents _left me,_ ” He says, low and dangerous. “They both left me and my brother. I was _alone._ I’ve been alone for eleven fucking years.” He glares up at Dean, his voice raising with every word. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me life isn’t fair.”

 

He sees Dean freeze, mouth hanging open. He looks stricken. Castiel feels a wave of guilt threaten to consume him, but he’s tired and embarrassed and done. He whirls around, grabs his shoes from the front door of Charlie’s house, pushes past Dean on the way out, and runs all the way home.

 

* * * 

 

Castiel doesn’t do much for the next few days. He sleeps, and goes to work, and sleeps some more. 

 

 

Charlie tries to text him a few times and he does his best to make polite conversation. He takes a shift with her at the Creamery four days after the night at her house. They work quietly for most of the time, taking turns sweeping and mopping because business is slow. After a while of only slightly uncomfortable silence, Charlie speaks.

 

“Dean is pretty broken up,” she says.

 

Castiel looks up at her. Her eyes are earnest and concerned. “Really?” He asks, and isn’t quite sure how he feels about that.

 

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “He misses you.”

 

Castiel feels a pang of something— hope? longing? guilt?— he can’t pinpoint the exact emotion, but he feels it curl deep in his stomach and take root there.

 

 

He spends time at the railroad tracks. He likes it down there— how he can stand between the long lines and see forever, how the grass tickles his knees, how he can always hear the low hum of insects and the occasional frog.

 

It’s at those tracks that one morning he gets a call from Gabriel. Confused, he picks up, unsure that his brother has every called him before.

 

“Hello?” 

 

“Cas,” Gabe says. “Your friend has been in the garage like, all morning.”

 

Castiel is silent for a moment, trying to figure out what is going on. _Why would any of his friends be in the garage?_ The only friend of his that he is close enough to hang out with on his own is Charlie, and he can’t figure out any reason why she would be there.

 

“Who?”

 

“I don’t know, man. He looked embarrassed when I came in. He’s working on some old bike.”

 

_He’s working on some old bike._ Castiel hangs up the phone without another word. Hope stars to unfurl in his chest, and he does his best to push it down, but it’s still there. He let’s the feeling carry him home, up the hill and down the sidewalk and into his the open door of his garage.

 

There, in the middle of the concrete floor, knelt next to Castiel’s old broken bike, is Dean. His back is to Castiel, and Castiel hesitates for a moment, remembering the anger that coursed through him that night as he ran home. But looking at Dean, at the tired line of his shoulders and the concentration in which he is looking at Castiel’s bike, the anger melts away.

 

“Dean,” he says, and Dean whirls around, standing up and stumbling awkwardly.

 

“Oh,” he says. “Hey, Cas.”

 

They fumble around each other for a moment before Castiel offers to get snacks from inside. Gabe is in the kitchen and gives Castiel an unreadable look as he grabs some sodas and a bag of pretzels.

 

Castiel settles beside Dean as he works. The silence isn’t particularly uncomfortable, but a lot rests unsaid in the air between them. They seem to have an unspoken agreement to keep it that way for the time being.

 

The silence lasts until Dean says, “Wanna help?”

 

Castiel doesn’t know the first thing about bikes or mechanics, but Dean’s eyes are bright, so he scoots closer and says, “Sure.”

 

Dean attempts to explain something to Castiel, holding up a screwdriver and pointing to something near the wheel of the bike, and Castiel misses most of it, distracted by the flush of Dean’s cheeks and how it makes his freckles stand out. 

 

“You got that?” Dean asks.

 

Castiel, caught off guard, shakes his head.

 

“Ok. Just— come here.” Dean says, and suddenly the screwdriver is in Castiel’s hand and Dean’s hands are over his, and with a few twists the screw is in place.

 

The screwdriver loudly clatters to the ground, and Dean puts his hands on Castiel’s cheeks. 

 

“Hey,” Dean says, and pulls him in.

 

Dean tastes sweet, like the soda they’ve been drinking, and his mouth is warm on Castiel’s, a smile pulling on the edge of his lips and threatening to break the kiss the whole time. Dean straddles his hips, both of his hands in Castiel’s hair, and Castiel leans back on one hand, the other at Dean’s waist, playing with the hem of his t-shirt before sliding under the thin fabric and up Dean’s back.

 

They stay like that for a while, just kissing, and then Dean gets back to work and Castiel leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him, and watches.

 

 

Later, as Dean is putting the finishing touches on the bike, he says, “I told my dad.”

 

Castiel all but gapes at him, and Dean flushes. “You did?”

 

“Yeah. I told him about— about me. And I mentioned you.”

 

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel says, because he can’t find the words to say anything else. He stands, and reaches for Dean, pulling him into a hug. “What did he say?” Castiel murmurs into Dean’s shoulder, and feels him let out a shaky breath.

 

“Well, he didn’t kick me out. So that’s a start, I guess.” Castiel gives him a squeeze and steps back.

 

Dean gestures towards the bike. “Wanna give it a try?”

 

* * *

  

Castiel cannot remember the last time he got on a bike. He puts this thought aside as they wheel it down to Dean’s street. It’s a little quite down there, and the street is wider. It’s different than Castiel’s street— the houses are smaller and more uniform and there are above ground pools in front yards and the smell of barbecue seems ever-present.

 

Castiel faces the bike and gets on, a little clumsy, and as his feet find the pedals the bike starts to tip over. Dean is there in an instant, one hand on the back of the seat and the other on the handlebars, steadying him. He gives Castiel a wink—maybe in warning— and then a hard shove. Castiel shouts, his feet fumbling back to the pedals and then, using the momentum that Dean gave him, he finds his balance and coasts, a little wobbly, down the street.

 

“Now try to turn around!” He hears Dean call after him, and he wavers around a wide u-turn, headed back towards Dean, who stands on the curb with his toes hanging off.

 

“Thank you,” Castiel says, pulling to a stop a little in front of him. “For fixing it.”

 

Dean smiles, small and shy, and reaches to scratch the back of his neck. “Anytime.”

 

 

 

They settle on the curb a little later, side by side, legs stretching out into the street.

 

“You lied about your parents,” Dean says, out of nowhere. There is no malice in his voice.

 

“Yes,” Castiel says, letting his eyes wander up into the cloudless sky.

 

“Why?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Castiel answers honestly. “I think— I think I just wanted to sound a little more normal. I was already the city kid. I didn’t want more to set me apart.”

 

“Oh,” Dean says, considering this. He picks at the grass. “Do you miss them ever?”

 

“I was young,” Castiel answers. “But— maybe. I think I miss what I lost because of them. The life I could have had.”

 

Dean nods.

 

“But also,” Castiel continues, “They left us. So maybe the life I could have had with them is no better than the life I had without them.”

 

“Maybe,” Dean agrees. He nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his own, a smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t turn out so bad, anyway.”

 

“Yeah?” Castiel murmurs, turning to face him.

 

“Yeah,” Dean confirms, leaning in.

 

* * *

  

That night, Castiel gets inside and Gabe is still in the kitchen, working on a blueprint. He looks up as Castiel is kicking off his shoes.

 

“So,” he says, and Castiel looks up at him, because his tone is different than usual. He smiles at Castiel, and his eyes are kind. “You and Dean, huh?”

 

Castiel opens his mouth, unsure of how to react.

 

“Good for you, little bro,” Gabe says. Castiel blushes.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He gets in bed and falls asleep right away, dreaming of bike rides and summer nights and warm hands.

 

* * *

 

August comes around before they know it, and just like that summer is coming to an end. The five of them try to spend as much time together as possible. They ride bikes and swim in the river that runs just outside of town and have bonfires and watch movies. They try to take it all in. 

 

One evening, they decide to get ice cream, on the miracle that neither Dean nor Charlie nor Castiel are working that night. They go to the park and they all sit there with their massive ice cream cones, each with three scoops threatening to fall off. Dean presses close to Castiel. They all stay there as the sunlight wanes and dusk’s cool breeze rustles the grass. Castiel closes his eyes and breathes in, and he can smell exhaust and dirt and the faint scent of his long finished ice cream, and he thinks that how come of all the places a boy like him could be right now, all the wonderful places and terrible places, how come he gets to be here in this town on this grass with his best friends. He thinks he must have gotten something right.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically the longest fiction piece that I have ever written. It's the first time I've ever actually had to come up with a plot that made sense and characters that could stay interesting for more than 3000 words. I don't know if I achieved everything I hoped to achieve in this piece. 
> 
> That being said, it was an incredible learning experience for me. It was a necessary step I had to take if I really want to pursue writing. I've done it once now, and now I can do it better next time, and the time after that, and so on!
> 
> Also: Big thanks to [KatieScarlet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieScarlet/pseuds/KatieScarlet) for pointing out that the original population for Cornridge was inaccurate.


End file.
